


Concussed

by WhisperingOrchard



Category: Rune Factory (Video Games), Rune Factory 4
Genre: F/M, Humor, Romance, Semi-Crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-13
Updated: 2015-10-13
Packaged: 2018-04-26 04:34:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4990438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhisperingOrchard/pseuds/WhisperingOrchard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Leon takes Xiao Pai out on a date. Xiao Pai <i>takes Leon out</i> on said date.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Concussed

**Author's Note:**

> I HAD AN IDEA FOR [fandomfanficsgalore](http://fandomfanficsgalore.tumblr.com/)‘s CONTEST ON THE LAST DAY. HECK YEAH. The prompt was AU, so this is set in modern suburban America (sorry, I feel most comfortable with an American setting--but this only alluded to once). This is probably crazy OOC, but I tried my best. |D

It’s a funny thing, how a near-death experience can bring people together.

It’s _not_ such a funny thing, Xiao Pai thinks as she stares in alarm at the half-conscious boy crumpled beside her, how a near-death experience can come at the hands of a small woman with a giant foam finger.

It just _figures_ that she couldn’t have a semi-conventional date with her handsome acquaintance. This boy—Leon, _that_ was his name, like the weaponized magic lizard from that one manga she had read last month—had been hanging around her mother’s bathhouse and bath shop for the past few weeks, nothing more than a window shopper until yesterday, when he had asked her out. It was truly ridiculous. Sure, he was easy on the eyes (even with that unsightly blue hair—who did he think he was, a de Sainte-Coquille daughter?), and had a voice worthy of a god, and kept looking at her out of the corner of those alluring-sultry- _smoldering-voluptuous-eyes—_

Oh, hush.

Can anyone blame her? Really?

Ah, but she is getting off track, yes?

Point being, Leon finally asked her out on a date (after a copious amount of flirting that is probably illegal in 49 states and Puerto Rico). While Xiao Pai initially had it in her to deny him (he was probably only teasing her, anyway), her mother overheard and _insisted_ that she go on a date with the poor pining blueberry of a man.

And, apparently, Leon was into baseball, which is how they wound up here—their first “date”, if one could call it that, sitting side-by-side at the local stadium.

She can’t help but wonder if Leon expected to spend this date on a stretcher (she only wishes she could admit surprise at the circumstances). Really, what are the odds of a foul ball ricocheting off of the pitcher’s bat in the _exact direction_ of Leon’s face? But it wasn’t the ball that had smacked him in the forehead—oh, no, Xiao Pai had saved him from that much—it was her fist, held back by only the cushiony goodness of a bright red #1 finger, as she tried blocking the ball.

And, thus, Leon presently lies in a crumple on the ground, half-conscious among the sticky remains of his Cracker Jacks.

“Leon!” she exclaims, cupping a hand to her mouth in a panic. A large red circle begins to swell up beneath the skin of his forehead. She is always such a klutz…! “A-Are you--?”

Her companion glances up dazedly from the concrete walkway where he landed, rubbing his rump from the pain of the fall. He blinks once, twice, thrice, each blink slower than the one before it. With widening eyes, finally registers her presence beside him and shoots her an attempt at that signature flirtatious smirk of his (however, in his current state of mind, it turns out much more akin to a [young child’s drawing of a smiley face](http://paigewest.typepad.com/.a/6a00d8345362ad69e20115703672f4970b-800wi)). “Y’pack a real punch… Xiao Paiiiii…”

In a frenzy, Xiao Pai chucks the foam finger behind her (striking some unsuspecting soul two rows down and making him drop his ballpark pseudo-beer) and bends down, getting a closer look at the bump on his brow. As a preventative measure, she waves down the paramedics at the top of the stairs before speaking again to her date. “Leon, I—I am not very good at this…” She fidgets a little, looking everywhere but his face as embarrassment wells in hot pools beneath her cheeks. Thinking fast, she lifts three fingers in front of his face. “How many?”

“Uh…” He blinks again, slowly, trying to focus on her hand. “… Can I ask the audience…?”

… Did Leon—a _concussed_ Leon, no less—really just make an outdated television joke? She must’ve hit him harder than she thought. All the same, despite these ludicrous circumstances, she cannot keep the airy, somewhat anxious laughter inside any longer. She chuckles a few times, hiding her face with one of her hands. “It seems… this is a disaster, yes?”

“I’s foiled again…” he slurs in response, wincing at the sight of the stretcher rolling their way. “Was gonn’ be great. Was gonn’ go fer th’kiss cam and ever’thing…”

Kiss Cam?

Oh.

_Oh._

He _wouldn’t have?!_ Surely not? She can scarcely imagine. It is only their first date, after all, and kissing someone in front of an _entire stadium of people_ —someone with a color scheme and fashion sense that belongs in a Yu-Gi-Oh! cartoon, no less—it’s preposterous. She would never have been able to live it down.

All the same…

She can’t say that she would have denied him either.

In fact, she almost wishes he had gone through with that plan. Almost. Perhaps she would feel more bashful about it had she not, essentially, backhand-punched him in the kisser.

Mostly out of pity, she presses a small peck to his bruised forehead; he winces from the painful sensation of her lips, but grins lopsidedly thereafter as the medics gingerly hoist him upright.

Sighing gently, she rises to her feet and dusts off her pants. The embarrassment still lingers at the back of her mind, and yet… She does not feel shame. Perhaps she _should_ , given that Leon is pretty clearly concussed, but, instead, the dominating emotion in the forefront of her heart is not one of dread, but one of hope—hope that, perhaps, this is only the first of _hundreds_ of absurd, oddly sweet memories shared with him. It is odd, and she cannot fully explain the notion, but there it is, nevertheless—the notion of familiarity, of knowing that, if this path should continue forward, these could be the moments that bind them forever, or the moments that they share with their children, or the moments that keep them company when they grow old and the other finally leaves their side.

Perhaps she is just as dazed as he is.

And yet, despite herself, Xiao Pai returns the cockeyed smile.


End file.
